


Parallels

by Meatball42



Series: Rare Pairs [4]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-06
Updated: 2012-09-06
Packaged: 2017-11-13 17:08:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/505799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meatball42/pseuds/Meatball42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Leon and Morgana came together, and one time they didn’t.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parallels

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kalisgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalisgirl/gifts).



> So, I kind of went overboard with this, but the prompt was just so good! So thanks for giving me some new head!canon. :)

**1\. Knight’s Training**

When Prince Arthur turned ten, his father assembled a few lords and ladies in the Great Hall and formally requested that the captain of the Guard, Lord Sir Proctor, begin Arthur’s knight training. Morgana, recently of her eleventh birthday, was not best pleased.

“You said I was too young!” she accused her adoptive father. The dozen nobles watching tittered or looked on disapprovingly, according to their natures. Standing beside his new knight-master, Arthur scowled, but resisted sticking out his tongue.

Uther smiled in amusement at his ward. “Morgana,” he said, bending at the waist toward the small girl, “knight training is not a practice for young ladies. You should be content with your tutors.”

“You always say Camelot is a dangerous place,” Morgana argued stubbornly, her dark eyebrows forming an angry V on her forehead. “How are embroidery and French supposed to protect me?”

“If I may, Your Highness?” A young knight stepped forward from the back of the company, causing a few whispers to be exchanged among the lords. Uther frowned, but nodded, and the knight bowed before speaking. “The girl speaks truly. As avid as we of the guard are in our defense of the castle, it is a common practice in modern times for ladies of noble birth to receive basic self-defense training.”

“We recognize your counsel, Sir Leon,” Uther said, looking intrigued.

“As the knights more senior than I are busy serving the kingdom, I would be honored to instruct Morgana, if it pleases Your Highness.”

Uther considered. “You are not yet of an age for an apprentice,” he mused, “but your father has vouched for your character and your forethought- an unusual attribute for a young knight.” Some of Uther’s lords chuckled at the joke, while others remained interested in the proceedings. “We thank you for your offer. Morgana?”

Morgana was studying the strong, curly-haired knight with the wise gray eyes who had stepped forward on her behalf. She looked at the king hopefully.

“You will report to Sir Leon for instruction.” The girl lunged forward and hung around his waist, spouting thanks. “Don’t be so grateful yet,” he warned her, to the amusement of the knights present. “You don’t know what you’re in for."

 

...

Morgana tumbled to the ground over Leon’s leg, her dirty tunic smudging yet again on the grassy training court.

“Try it again,” Leon ordered.

“I can’t!” the girl cried, nearly in tears from frustration.

“You can,” the knight said calmly.

“This is impossible! You’re just like all the others, you want me to fail!” Morgana balled her hands in the hem of the tunic and glared. “Arthur says his training is easy. You’re making it harder on purpose because I’m a girl!”

Leon sighed and knelt beside Morgana, waiting until she was paying attention before he spoke. “I don’t want you to fail, Morgana. But I am training you harder than Sir Proctor is training Arthur.”

Morgana looked up at him in anguish; she’d expected a denial. “But you promised-”

“I promised I would teach you to be the best fighter I could make you,” Leon reminded her. “Morgana… in a few years, Uther will start to look for a marriage for you.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Morgana crossed her arms and looked away.

“Ignoring the future will not make it wait,” the knight warned. “It will only prove us less ready to face it. In four years, maybe less, the king will make you cease your fighting lessons.”

The girl sniffed slightly, her long black hair covering part of her face.

“Arthur will have years to hone his skills in the fighting arts. You and I will have much less time.” Morgana looked at Leon with dark, shining eyes. The knight smiled kindly. “So we will need to train faster and harder than Arthur.”

“Arthur says women can’t handle knight’s training,” Morgana whispered, eyes lowered in shame.

Leon tilted her chin up. “That is only because he’s never encountered a woman who’s been given the chance. My mother was my first hand fighting teacher,” he said quietly. Morgana watched him, suddenly hopeful. “She was from the Northern border, where everyone is taught how to fight.”

“Is she very brave and strong?” the eleven-year-old asked eagerly.

“She was very brave, and very noble,” Leon answered, his eyes distant. “She died when I was your age,” he told Morgana softly, “protecting my sisters from bandits.”

The girl remained silent, the loss of her beloved father brought to the forefront of her mind.

“I believe you will be just as brave as she was, Morgana, and perhaps even stronger.” He spoke quietly, but intensely, and Morgana was entranced. “But you have to be willing to work harder than anyone else, even when everyone else expects you to fail.”

Morgana smiled shyly. “I just wanted someone else to believe in me.”

Leon nodded. “And you have him, my lady,” he swore. “Now. Will you try that throw again?”

Morgana leaped to her feet. “I’m ready."

 

...

Morgana shifted her grip on her sword and checked the angle of the sun. If the fight was short, it wouldn’t get in her eyes.

A dozen feet away, Arthur glared through the visor of his helmet. He’d complained about having to fight a girl, but he’d stopped when Sir Proctor had asked whether he’d prefer to fight him.

Morgana smiled, remembering Arthur’s face. She often fought against Leon during practice, along with her sword drills, and it always left her exhausted. She could understand why Arthur wouldn’t want a bout against the captain of the Royal Guard

Arthur took advantage of her moment of distraction to lunge forward with an overhead chop, which she parried easily. She stepped forward with a returning blow and nearly stumbled from Arthur’s block.

“Tired already?” he taunted under his breath as she recovered. Morgana narrowed her eyes at him through her helmet like she was angry, but below the visor she was smiling as she stepped back to regroup. She’d stumbled because Arthur’s block was nowhere near as strong as Leon’s, and she suddenly understood why Leon had insisted she fight him.

Morgana began to pretend, missing a few of Arthur’s lighter strikes and letting her guard slip, trying to lull him into thinking she was tired as Leon had done a few times. Arthur took the bait, becoming wilder and less careful.

All of a sudden she stopped pretending and went on the offensive, attacking so fast he gave ground to keep up with her strikes. He began to look more and more panicked, and she disarmed him quickly, leaving him empty-handed, heaving for breath, in the center of the field.

The referee stepped between them and declared Morgana the winner. Arthur looked at his knight-master disbelievingly as he left the match court, as though the ruling were wrong. Sir Proctor placed one hand on Arthur’s armored shoulder and shook Leon’s hand with the other.

“You’ve done a commendable job, Leon,” the senior knight said with a wide smile. “The boys will want to keep an eye on you at the next tournament,” he joked.

“Thank you sir,” Leon accepted the praise. “If I may, Arthur has near-perfect technique.”

Sir Proctor grimaced good-naturedly. “He let himself be tricked. Ah well, we’ll work on that, won’t we boy?” The knight led his apprentice off the field.

Leon brought Morgana to the equipment tent and began to help her off with her armor. “You did a very good job,” he said quietly, and Morgana glowed.

“I can’t believe I beat Arthur!” she whispered.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Leon cautioned, though he was smiling. “He’ll be training twice as hard now, though you’ll likely not fight him again in an official match.”

“Why not?” Morgana protested. “Nobody even saw this one. I want to be able to tell everyone I beat Arthur.”

“No one watched this match because no one watches apprentices fight, even if one of them is the Prince,” the knight explained. “But even so, it’s not good for publicity if the Prince is defeated, particularly by a woman.”

Morgan stomped the ground.

“Think not of that,” Leon nudged her with the mail he’d just removed. “Tonight is for celebration. You won your first match, and you know what happens when a knight wins their first match?” Morgana shook her head. “They go to the pub.”

That night, Morgana entered the pub for the first time. Leon kept a careful watch on her and brought her home before the moon was risen, but he let her try a sip of the hard liquor the men drank and said he was proud of her. That was all the celebration Morgana needed.

 

**2\. Dancing**

At Morgana’s eighteenth birthday party, Leon asked her to dance.

Clad in a delightfully bright green dress, she followed him to the dance floor and took up a position, other pairs shifting to allow them space. The music began, and Morgana smirked when she noticed Leon focusing on his steps far more than she needed to, after years of lessons.

“This is the first time you’ve ever asked me to dance,” she commented. “What took you so long?”

“It would not have been proper before,” Leon told her seriously. “You were too far above me in terms of stature.”

“In terms of stature, I believe you claim the title of highest,” Morgana replied wittily, reaching up to brush to top of his curls. “But really, I wouldn’t have minded. And I doubt anyone else would have, either. You were my fighting instructor, after all, hardly an unknown lord.”

“I wouldn’t want to damage your reputation, Morgana.”

Morgana laughed. “I advise Uther in council session, go on hunts, practice sword fighting when I have time… I don’t think dancing with a knight could make the conservatives dislike me any more.”

“And yet, since I waited, there is no chance at all.” He shrugged and smiled at the logic.

“I haven’t congratulated you on your position yet, have I?” she asked.

Leon sighed. “I would that the position did not need to be filled. Sir Proctor was a dear friend of my father’s, and a very honorable man.”

Morgana squeezed the hand that was holding hers in the air. “I am sorry. Arthur is in mourning as well. I must admit, though, I am glad you now feel free to dance with me.” She led him in a spin, and he laughed in surprise.

“I am as well,” he admitted. “Though I did fear you might deny me.”

Morgana was honestly surprised. “Deny you? Why would I do that?”

“You might not… think it proper to dance with me,” Leon suggested, blushing slightly. “I am a good deal older than most of your suitors.”

“Do you consider yourself one of my suitors?” She grinned, cat-like.

“Of course not,” he stuttered. She laughed.

“You are not too old for me, Leon,” Morgana said, unusually shy. “I’m not a little girl anymore.”

He looked down at her clinging dress and stepped slightly closer than the current dance generally allowed. “You are certainly not that, my lady,” he murmured, and Morgana felt her cheeks burn.

The music came to a close, and Leon bowed and kissed her hand. Instead of leaving the floor immediately, however, he stepped closer. “If you are so undaunted by the conservatives, why don’t you ask me, the next time you wish to dance?”

He walked back to his table, and Morgana shivered as she watched him go.

 

**3\. Slipping Away**

Morgana didn’t forget. At the next great feast, she asked Leon to dance, and they stayed on the floor for three consecutive songs, until the whispers nearly attracted Uther’s attention. Cautious Leon left the floor, but Morgana did not give up.

She made sure he was watching when she slipped out a side door, and that he followed her to a rarely-used corridor when he exited the party. He watched her hungrily when she stepped close to him.

“Why are we here, my lady?”

“I didn’t want to stop dancing with you,” she told him taking his hand in one of hers and touching his chest with the other, standing far nearer than decorum allowed. He held her by the waist, and in his eyes was something that was both familiar and scarily new. 

They swayed and turned along with the faint music from the Great Hall, but this sort of dancing was so much more intimate than what they’d shared previously, and Morgana could not stop herself from leaning forward and up to kiss him. As though he’d been waiting for just that, Leon pulled her close and kissed her back, his experience showing in the blood rushing to Morgana’s cheeks and the trembling that started in her knees and hips.

Someone sneezed in a corridor nearby and they broke apart, both holding their breath. “This isn’t safe, Morgana,” Leon whispered. “If anyone sees, the scandal-”

“Then let’s go somewhere else,” she replied at the same volume, “somewhere no one will see us.”

His wide eyes took in her desire and her sincerity. “Where?” he asked. “My rooms are in the guards’ barracks.”

“And I live in a tower,” Mogana said ruefully. “I’ve got it! Gwen has a room near the seamstresses, but she almost always stays at her father’s home.”

She started to lead the way, but Leon caught her arm. “Are you sure about this, Morgana?” he asked, concerned.

“I’m not a child,” she hissed.

“I mean,” he said bashfully, “about me?”

Her ire died and she went back to kiss him again. “I have never been more sure of anything.”

He smiled, and that new/old look came back into his eyes. “Then lead the way, my lady.” 

 

**4\. Saving a Life**

Morgana was shaking when she exited the council meeting, Uther’s angry voice still echoing on the stone walls. She walked down the corridor at top speed, brushing tears from her cheeks, ignoring the man who’d followed her out of the room.

“Morgana,” Leon called, rushing up behind her. “Morgana!” He grabbed her arm and pulled her into an office along the wall. The surprised scribe quickly left the room when Leon asked him.

“Uther’s going to kill the girl, for no reason!” Morgana raged, barely keeping herself from sobbing.

Leon shook his head. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry to me, be sorry to that poor girl!” she cried. Leon hurried to close the door. “She’s done nothing! It was her father who was found with the spell book, her only crime is to be related to him!”

“I’m sorry,” Leon repeated, pulling her into his arms. She hit him on the chest, hard, but open-handed so she wouldn’t hurt him.

“It’s not fair!” she whispered, frustration finally letting the tears out.

“No, it’s not,” Leon murmured.

“You agree?” She looked up in surprise. “Then why didn’t you say anything? You were right there with me, you could have protested!”

“That’s the law of the land, Morgana, and Uther is the king,” Leon told her, strong gaze stopping her from arguing. “It’s my duty to uphold the laws of Camelot.”

“Even when ‘upholding the law’ means a miscarriage of justice like this?” she demanded.

“The Royal Guard must preserve order,” he said firmly. “I uphold the law until it changes, hopefully for the better.”

“It’s not right.”

“No, I know.”

They stayed there for a while, holding each other. Leon’s frown was conflicted, and she knew that he cared just as much as she, even if normally he was too reticent to show it.

“I’m going to break her out.”

“Morgana, no! The king will kill you!” Leon gripped her shoulders as thought she were about to run off to the dungeons at that very moment.

“I don’t care. I can’t just leave her there and not even try to help her!”

“The kind will be watching you, it’ll be too obvious. You won’t succeed!” he insisted.

She tore out of him arms and stepped toward the door, but he pulled her back firmly. “You will _not_ do this, Morgana!”

“How dare you?” she says indignantly. “I am the king’s ward, you may not give me orders!”

“I don’t care about that.” He stared into her eyes intensely. “I have fought and debated and slept beside you. This isn’t about rank!”

“Then why won’t you let me save her?” Morgana begged.

“Because _I’m_ going to!”

Morgana actually jerked in surprise. “You’re going to…”

“I think I know the dungeons a mite better than you,” he joked awkwardly.

Morgana felt her whole body loosen with relief, and then with humor. Leon almost never showed the passion he had for justice in such an obvious way, and he almost never fought with her, due to his natural tendency toward reason. On the rare occasions- such as this- when he did lose his temper, he always looked so delightfully sheepish afterwards.

“How will you do it?” she asked out of curiosity.

“I can hardly go around telling people how to break out of the dungeons, can I?” he muttered, not looking at her.

Morgana stepped forward and kissed him gently. “Thank you.”

He sighed. “I admire you, Morgana. Your love for the people, your intelligence, your perseverance. But I fear your willfulness.”

She hesitated, unsure if hurt or offense was stronger. “You fear me?”

“I fear one day you’ll make a decision that I cannot talk you out of.” He managed a smile and kissed her again. “I’m sorry. Have dinner with me tonight, in the noble’s hall? I’m sure Uther will not be expecting you at his table after your performance in the council.”

Morgana frowned. “We never eat in the nobles’ hall. They’re a load of gossips.”

“Trust me, my lady?” he begged with his eyes.

“Of course.”

 

...

They lingered over dessert and a flagon of wine. There were only a few of the more academically-inclined nobles remaining in the hall, engaging in a debate over some foreign text, when the door flew open and Uther’s reddened, furious face appeared.

“Where is she?”

Leon rose from his seat in alarm, while Morgana merely stared in shock. The academics stopped their conversation to watch.

“The witch-child!” Uther roared.

“She’s not a witch!” Morgana retorted, standing to face the king.

“My lord, the girl is missing?” Leon interceded.

“Mysteriously disappeared from the dungeons,” Uther spat, not taking his eyes from Morgana. “How dare you disobey my orders?”

“I’ve done nothing of the sort!” Morgana cried.

“The lady Morgana and I have been here since the beginning of supper,” Leon told the king calmly. “I can vouch for that, and there are dozens of other witnesses.”

“It’s true, Your Highness,” said one particularly brave lord from those left in the hall. “She hasn’t left.”

The king took a few deep breaths, glaring at those around him. “Come to the council room,” he barked to Leon, and swept away before the captain could respond.

Murmurs started up behind them as Leon and Morgana left the hall. “Filthy gossips, all of them,” Morgana cursed.

“They’ll spread the news, and the fact that you and I could not have had anything to do with the girl’s disappearance,” Leon murmured to her, conscious of the servants they passed in the hallways.

“You planned this, didn’t you?” she whispered back.

He didn’t say anything, but a quiet smile was playing on his face, and she pulled him into a hug right in the middle of the corridor, not caring who saw it or what they said. “Thank you, Leon,” she said fervently.

“Anything for you, my lady,” he said back.

 

**5\. The Last Time**

She’d noticed something was bothering Leon days ago, but Arthur and his new manservant had uncovered some magical plot for the prince to defeat, which had put the entire castle on edge and suspicious. Tonight was the first night she’d been able to give Gwen the signal to leave her room free so they could steal some time together.

She’d planned to ask him about it immediately, but he’d swept into the small bedchamber and slammed the door closed behind him and gazed at her so keenly that she hadn’t protested when he pulled her to the bed and began kissing her deeply.

Now, close together beneath the sheets, she was determined to know what was so wrong, what had killed the ever-present light in his eyes that seemed to shine straight from the heart. “Tell me, Leon.” she insisted, making it clear she would accept no more distractions.

He nodded, staring distantly at the dark ceiling. “My parents have arranged a marriage.” Morgana took his hand under the blanket and he linked their fingers together, squeezing them tightly. “I knew this would-” he choked, and she saw a tear trickle down his cheek.

Morgana gasped quietly. He was right, they’d known this day would come, when either his marriage or hers would no longer be merely a trouble for the future. But Leon always took such things in stride, saying they came as they would, and she’d believed they would break apart as easily- if not as joyfully- as they’d joined together. She had not imagined the misery on his face that was echoed by the tearing in her chest.

“How long?” she asked, moving closer to him.

“A month before she comes to court,” he whispered, looking at her at last, inches away. “She’s never been here- studying in Mercia.”

“She’ll be smart,” Morgana tried to smile. “She won’t bore you like the ladies who only talk about dresses and perfumes and embroidery.”

“She’ll never fight me, either,” Leon replied bitterly. “She’ll never beat me at a horse race, or ask me to teach her to throw daggers. She’ll never be you.”

Morgana wiped the tears from his face and gave a watery chuckle when he did the same for her. “Thank you for telling me. I’d hate to find out when she arrived.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” Leon swore.

“I know. I love you,” she said into his neck as she finally let her tears run free.

“My lady,” he whispered, holding her close to him, and she knew what he meant.

 

**1\. Divergence**

She came for him in the dungeons. He wondered if she remembered that he knew how to escape from there, as the number of guards posted was ambiguous. Her opening salvo answered that question.

“I should be honored you’re still here, Captain,” Morgana said with a sly smile. “I was expecting you to have tried to escape by now.”

“And leave my men behind? Not a chance.” He saw the beginning of a frown forming on Sir Aeron’s face- the plan had been for Leon to join Arthur with information on Morgana’s movements- but the man was smart enough to affect a miserable look before he gave Morgana any clues.

The doors to the cell clinked as they were unlocked and opened, and then Leon was dragged from the cell, down the hall to the main room of the dungeons and forced to sit down at the table. It was an insult on top of injury, since that was the table where he’d organized the castle guard rota for almost ten years.

All of Morgana’s soldiers cleared out. He checked the exits automatically; he wasn’t planning to run, and he was sure Morgana could stop him if he did, but it had become habit. It had become habit because the kingdom was under constant threat from the woman sitting across the table from him.

“I’m glad you’re still here, Leon,” she said, and there was enough of _her_ in there that he hoped.

“I cannot say the same, Morgana,” he admitted gently. He looked at her and hinted at a smile that he could not truly form. Her face looked different, more used to the harshness of living outside Camelot.

“I understand the circumstances are not perfect, but I’d hoped you would be pleased to see me.” There was iron in her voice, expectation. It was the voice of someone who was used to power, used to manipulating and influencing people with her mere presence, and what hope he had faded.

“I can’t see you anymore,” he murmured, dropping his gaze to the table.

“What do you mean?” She sounded hurt. He closed his eyes. It still hurt him to hear that: even after the years apart and the knowledge of everything she’d done, she still sounded like the woman he loved. “It’s me, Leon.”

“No, it’s not. The Morgana I know would never allow innocents to be killed for her own designs. She was proud of besting Arthur on the match court, in honest combat, she would never consider a coup against him.”

“Ruling Camelot is my birthright,” she defended firmly.

Oh, how familiar she sounded. He could hardly believe the things she’d done. “Because Uther was your father? Yes, legally you should rule. But is it best for the people of Camelot that their ruler holds their lives in such low esteem?”

“All I’ve ever wanted was for my father to treat his people justly,” Morgana said furiously. “The way he treated the innocent magic-users of this kingdom was hideous!”

“And how many innocents, magic-users or otherwise, perished when you ordered your archers to shoot the citizens of Camelot?” He glared at the wall behind her, still unable to look at her, not even to defend the lives that had been lost.

“It was regrettable, but necessary.”

She didn’t even care. “You’re not the woman I love anymore.”

The slap didn’t even hurt, but he could see her expression, though he tried not to, and that hurt. “And how is Lady Tiffany?” she hissed, bitterness coiling in the air.

“Safely abroad, traveling with her lover. She wanted to marry as little as I did.”

“Then stay with me!” she whispered, reaching across the table to clutch his chained hands. “Be my consort. We can finally be together in the open!”

“You’ve killed men I loved, Morgana. You’ve torn down the city I vowed to protect. You haven’t repented for any of your deeds. How could I ever be with you again?” She didn’t reply, but he’d closed his eyes again and could not read her face. “I said I feared you would one day do something irreversible.”

“You also said I’d forever be your lady.” There was a rustling across from him. He stared down at the table until she turned his head to the side and kissed him. He didn’t kiss back, didn’t look at her. “Say I’m your lady, Leon,” she begged, voice trembling.

“I cannot.”

Her hands left his face, and for a moment she just stood there, staring at him. “Take him back to the cells!” she commanded as she swept away, and he wished he could hear any emotion in her voice- regret, some hint of the pain he was feeling- but there was only royalty.

The guards dragged him back to the cells. An hour later, he was gone.


End file.
